


i am poured out like water

by AllMyStitchesItch



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, Catholicism, Christianity, Developing Relationship, Emotionally Repressed, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Faith, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Religious Discussion, Sobriety, idek anymore, jim and sid come in later updates, religious trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllMyStitchesItch/pseuds/AllMyStitchesItch
Summary: [tumblr: allmystitchesitchao3]
Relationships: Paul Gray/Joey Jordison
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	1. matthew 25:35

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr: allmystitchesitchao3]

“You’re Casey’s little brother, right?” Paul said, immediately regretting asking. The swell of pain that crossed Joey’s face was slight and brief; barely noticeable if you didn’t understand the context. 

But Paul did. 

So Paul saw it.

“Yeah,” Joey answered quickly, smiling a little bit to suppress that sudden wave of long-held grief he felt wash over him, “did you know him?”

“We ran with the same crowd back in high school. Didn’t see him… much after that,” Paul said, mentally kicking himself in the ass for saying dumb shit like that twice in the span of twenty seconds. His casual social skills were… A little rusty, to say the least.

“Oh, yeah?” Joey smiled a little sadly, looking down at his feet.

“I’m sorry… I know that’s probably not what y’wanna talk about,” Paul tried to apologize awkwardly, taking a nervous drag off his cigarette.

Joey shrugged a little, “It’s ok,” his lips curled into a smile again, looking back up at Paul, also pausing, “so what’d you think of the band?” he exhaled the question through smoke.

Paul looked in the window of the bar and then back to the short goth boy standing in front of him, taking another drag off his cigarette. He’d recognized Joey as Casey’s brother immediately because they were the only two in town that dressed so extravagantly. Now that Casey was gone, it was just Joey. 

“Do you know anyone in the band?” Paul asked before answering Joey’s question.

“Nah, they’re from Portland, I think. Just passing through, they’re not local,” Joey answered.

“Oh, good, ‘cause I thought they sucked,” Paul breathed out smoke.

“Yeah, me too,” Joey laughed a little at this, and Paul joined him and the chilly impending fall air felt warm for a moment.

Joey noticed the cross around Paul’s neck as his eyes moved up from studying the Obituary shirt he was wearing, “You still a catholic?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at it with a nod of his head.

“Hmm? Oh…” Paul said, looking down and back to Joey, “No, but... Old habits, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Joey said, pulling out his own that was tucked into the neck of his shirt and smiling a little at him, “I know.”

Paul stopped chewing at his pierced lip nervously and perked up a little seeing this. He knew Joey had gone to the same Catholic schools he had because Paul had attended them with Casey.

A comfortable silence settled over the two as they both took drags from their own respective cigarettes. It wasn’t awkward or unpleasant. Just warm with newfound companionship.

“Were you gonna head home and get some sleep?” Paul asked, breaking the short-lived silence. He hoped Joey would stay and linger for a little while longer. The only reason he actually dragged himself out to a show tonight after working himself to death was that staying home wasn’t gonna do him any good. His demons had been threatening to rear their ugly heads tonight. Nothing unmanageable, but he knew it’d be easier if he went out and deafened himself listening to some shitty band play tonight. Maybe socialize, for fuck’s sake, and quit being such an antisocial workaholic weirdo.

“Nah, I actually work in a couple hours, the graveyard shift at Sinclair’s,” Joey answered, tossing his cigarette butt into the sewer grate just off the sidewalk. He turned back to Paul, silently hoping that he would pick up what he was laying down there.

Paul took another long drag off his cigarette so he could stall and work up the courage to asking Joey if he wanted to do something.

People skills. Rusty. All that.

“I couldn’t really sleep yet,” Paul said, which was a lie, he could pass out face down on the concrete right now and sleep for fourteen hours, but he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to go back to his apartment alone and wringing his hands together pacing wishing that he  _ wasn’t _ alone, “you wanna grab some coffee, there’s gotta be a diner around here somewhere.”

A soft smile spread over Joey’s slightly smudged black lips, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

~ ~ ~

Paul lit another cigarette once they were seated in a booth with shitty cracking red vinyl, too nervous to eat, just ordering a decaf because he did have to sleep at some point in the next four hours. 

“Nervous about something?” Joey asked, breathing a little laugh at him as he took the first sip of his black coffee.

“What? Uh… no, why?” Paul stumbles over his words a little bit.

“You’ve been chain smoking since the bar,” Joey raised a drawn-on eyebrow that was half-smeared off after a long night in the pit at him.

“Oh, yeah, no I just…” and Paul trails off because he wants to lie and make up some excuse. Say anything that’s not admitting that it’s because he  _ is _ nervous, nothing to make him vulnerable, but he stops himself. He knows he has to make an effort and he can’t keep living like that, he’s spent  _ thirty-four fucking years _ living like that and it’s time. It’s time to let that shit go and just be a real person. So he stops himself. He takes another drag and Joey waits patiently, soft smile still ghosting his lips.

“My… people skills, or whatever… are a little rusty,” Paul admits, looking intently at the ash tray as he taps his cigarette, once, twice, three times.

“That’s ok,” Joey shrugs, taking another sip of his coffee, “Ask anybody, I can talk enough for two.”

Paul looks back at him and he’s smiling so invitingly. He’s… attractive. Yes. He will allow himself to say that much. Attractive, and he’s enjoying his time with him and he’s not going to explore it any further than that at this moment. 

Little steps. 

Paul takes another drag off his cigarette as Joey speaks up again.

“So when’d ya lose your faith then?” Joey inquires. 

Paul smiles a little forlornly, looking down at his index fingernail that he’s been nervously picking at since they sat down, “Been about six months now…”

“Oh, you’re really fresh out of there, huh?” Joey laughs a little and Paul laughs with him, peppering in a soft “yeah” as he takes another sip of his decaf.

“Yeah, I realized it was all bullshit around thirteen, parents still made me go to catholic school though so I got all the Jesus freak shit anyways,” Joey nodded along, tucking some hair behind his ear.

His face was divinely youthful and so, so pale. Paul knew he’d graduated high school, but he had X’s on his hands from the bar, so that left him between the ages of eighteen and twenty. 

_ Too young and keen to be interested in some old man just starting to get his shit together. _

Paul pushed that away again. There was no need to jump and cling. This was coffee with a near stranger that probably just took pity on him. That was all.

_ Get yourself together, you’re just being stupid now. _

“So… What was the last straw? Or is that too personal?” Joey said, bubbly as ever and moving things right along.

Paul thought about that for a minute, taking the final puff off his cigarette and stubbing it out in the ashtray, “I fell into… A bad place. And it was just like He wasn’t there anymore. I didn’t feel that… Divine susurrate or whatever the fuck anymore, y’know? Nothing specific. It just wasn’t there anymore,” Paul said, furrowing his eyebrows a little and taking the final swig of his decaf.

Joey nodded thoughtfully at this like he was really listening. Like he really cared. Paul couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. Like someone was really listening and understanding.

“I was the same way. I just didn’t feel it anymore. And y’know what? I think that Hollywood trope of uhh, y’know, Christians or whatever experiencing a singular event that makes them lose faith is bullshit. I think it’s an accumulation of moments and experiences over time that builds up until you just... wake up one day and it’s gone,” Joey gestured carelessly with one hand, piercing him with his blue eyes over his coffee mug.

Paul smiled a little and nodded, pondering this in his head.

His dissipating anxiety as they conversed was a welcome change.

Something in him felt whole.


	2. romans 7:15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr: allmystitchesitchao3]

Joey called Paul every night that week after they talked in the diner and exchanged numbers once it was time for Joey to head off to work. 

They’d shoot the shit about whatever, mostly talking about bands, but occasionally deviating to horror movies or how work went. 

Joey did most of the talking, which was fine by Paul. He much preferred to listen to Joey prattle on about whatever he wanted and only be prompted by him to speak every once in a while. 

He was content listening to Joey tell him why he thought Halloween IV sucked, or why he loved the latest Melvins album. He just enjoyed being present. Being known. Even if it had been disconcerting at first, it was slowly starting to dissipate and the whole ordeal was beginning to pay off joyously. It was so much different than what he'd previously understood relations with other people to be.

After he’d been ostracized by his peers for leaving the church, he didn’t realize just how awful his normal-people social skills were until he’d made friends with Joey. 

Not too long ago, he was so accustomed to forced laughter and fraudulent smiles. Feigning interest in what everyone around him had to say. Counterfeiting his love for Christ as his flame of faith was secretly beginning to flicker out.

Spending his nights alone, overthinking, stressing, feeling the crushing guilt of being human, drinking until he blacked out, then spewing out his sins in confessional the day after, the feeling similar to gagging on razor blades, not allowing his voice to shake when he spoke them through the screen.

The anxious pit in his stomach that got bigger and bigger every day, threatening to consume him completely, kneeling and praying resentfully, crying out in private for someone to help him because that was all he knew and he hated it.

That used to be his normal, and it wasn’t so long ago, but it also felt like an eternity had passed.

Joey was a strange, but more than welcome change in his new life. He felt like he could breathe and just be a real person, unashamed.

It felt… Good. 

He liked Joey. A lot. Probably more than he’d care to admit to himself. 

Maybe more than he _ should. _

He was still coming to terms with countless repressed traits that lived within him six months on and it felt like too much all at once sometimes, but talking to Joey and forming some kind of connection made it a little more bearable. 

_ Even if he and Casey hadn’t been the closest, his heart had still ached when he’d heard the news. Connecting with Joey brought him some consolation there too. _

“You wanna get together for coffee or something tomorrow?” Joey asked casually, Paul could hear the sweet sleepiness starting to creep into his voice.

Paul swallows a little nervously when Joey asks that. They hadn’t seen each other since last weekend, after the show, and Paul was fucked up about that for like 2 days afterward. He liked Joey, a lot, and he made him happy...

But there was still that awful, lingering need to repress it and isolate himself. To repent.

Old habits are hard to kill.

Joey started up again before he could answer, interrupting his thoughts, “I made a tape for you too, just some shit I thought you might like,” he sprinkled in, seemingly as an afterthought, and Paul suddenly felt like he was melting through the floor.

_ Joey made him a fucking mixtape… of songs he thought he might like… Joey thought about him and took the time to make him a mixtape… fuck. He was going to have an aneurysm. _

“Hellooooo?” Joey laughed a little bit into the receiver.

“Sorry, uh... Yeah, coffee. Coffee sounds good,” Paul stammered out, cringing at himself and smacking his palm against his forehead softly.

Joey breathed out another laugh and paused for a moment. “Where do you go when you space out like that?” he asked, quiet and strangely intimate. 

“Uh... I don’t really know,” Paul said, anxiously circling his thumb on the steel cross that hung around his neck, over and over again.

_ Nervous tick.  _

_ Old habits. _

Joey hummed in acknowledgment and paused to let out a long yawn, “I’ll call you tomorrow to meet up?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Paul cleared his throat a little.

“Alright dude, have a good night,” Joey said sleepily.

“Yeah… night,” Paul said slowly.

He heard a click on Joey’s end, and he was alone again, left in silence, wearing down the object of his affliction between his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and feedback greatly appreciated, thank you for reading


	3. corinthians 9:7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr: allmystitchesitchao3]

Joey slaps the tape onto the diner table once they sit down and order coffee. He slides it towards Paul, two fingers complimented with chipping black nail polish.

“There’s some good shit on there you might like, dude,” Joey says casually, lighting a cigarette.

Paul runs his fingers over his name scrawled shittily onto the cassette case in black sharpie.

“Tracklist is inside,” Joey says as he exhales smoke.

“Thanks, man,” Paul says quietly, opening the case and seeing more of Joey’s messy penmanship on a piece of paper stuffed in with the tape. His eyes ran over the song titles quickly.

_ Unwilling to Explain, God Machine, Kathaarian Life Code, Chainsaw Gutfuck, Honey Bucket, Psalm 69, Albatross, Cassie Eats Cockroaches… _

Paul’s eyes lit up a little, amused at the song titles. He was a death metal lover mostly, so he could absolutely appreciate a song titled Chainsaw Gutfuck or Cassie Eats Cockroaches.

Joey noticed the half-smile forming on the pierced side of his mouth, “I put stuff you said you didn’t really listen to on there,” he spoke up, “a whole mess of different shit, maybe it'll get you out of that death metal slump you’re in,” Joey teased.

Paul breathed a little laugh.

“Know any of the songs?” Joey asked, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"Recognize all the band names, just never given any of 'em a chance... 'Cept for Acid Bath, never heard of them,” Paul said 

“Aw, they're fucking sick, dude, they just put out their first album last year, they’re my new favorite. Maybe even more than The Melvins,” Joey pondered aloud.

“A band you might like _more_ than the Melvins?” Paul tried to tease now and Joey threw his head back a little and laughed.

“I know, man, it’s crazy, but they kick ass, they’re like if sludge metal and hardcore punk were siblings and had a fucked up incestuous child,” Joey said, loudly enough that a horrified look spread over the woman at the next table’s face as she stared intently down at her food.

Paul put a hand over his mouth and tried to stifle a laugh at both Joey’s absurd description and the horrified look on the woman’s face.

He looked back at Joey across the table who was smiling with his pointy little teeth visible, unbothered by how obscene everyone seemed to think he was, and it made Paul melt a little more inside. He looked so angelic.

_ If, y'know, angels looked like deathly pale five-foot-three guys that wore black lipstick.  _

“If you end up liking them, I can copy their whole album for you, it’s hard to come by. Had to get a friend down in Dallas to mail me one, and  _ he _ had to go all the way to New Orleans to get a copy at one of their shows,” Joey said.

“They’re... interesting titles,” Paul smiled softly, holding the tape delicately in his hand like it would shatter if he made one wrong move.

“Those are their two best songs, God Machine especially for you ‘cause you’re s fresh out of the cult,” Joey teased again and Paul felt the chunky platform on Joey’s boot brush slightly against the side of his shitty beat up converse for just a moment when he spoke, and then it was gone.

Paul tried to contain his shiver with a deep breath and he closed the cassette case again, slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie.

Joey continued on, carrying the conversation as usual, “If you got a blank tape lying around, show me some shit you like, or if you just wanna tape over that one when you’re done listening to it,” Joey shrugged a little, ashing his cigarette carefully and looking back at Paul, up through his eyelashes.

Paul cleared his throat a little, his heart leapt when Joey suggested that. He gave a shit about what he liked. He wanted to hear what he liked. 

_ He needed to compose himself, god damn it, it’s a fucking mixtape, it didn’t mean anything. _

“Yeah for sure,” Paul finally spit out, “You listen to any Alice In Chains? Or uh… Deicide?” Paul said, struggling to remember what his favorite bands were, too distracted by Joey fidgeting with his lighter in his tiny hands that seemed to wander closer to his side of the table as more time passed.

Joey perked up a little, “Alice In Chains?” he asked.

“Yeah, do you hate them?” Paul let out a nervous laugh.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be into them,” Joey smiled a little.

“I do listen to shit that’s not death metal, y’know,” Paul said.

“Good. I like people with a range,” Joey replied, “but I haven’t really listened to ‘em all that much, besides what they play on the radio, you should put a song by them on the tape.”

Paul took a long drink from his coffee cup.

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is greatly appreciated


	4. peter 5:7

Paul spent a substantial amount of time turning the cassette over and over in his hands restlessly before finally playing it the day after Joey had given it to him. He settled down on the couch, tired after work, and hit the play button with his headphones on.

Honey Bucket was the first track, and he was finally able to put a name to the song he’d heard played around for the last year or so but never knew the artist or title. He reflexively beamed a little to himself and tapped his fingers along absent-mindedly to it.

It wasn’t a warm or intimate song by any means, not even close, but Paul was still feeling strangely blissful knowing that someone had made something like this just for him. That  _ Joey  _ had done it just for him. Paul felt blessed as he kept tapping his fingers along, eyes closed, head resting against the back of the couch, all that tension built up from the day evaporating with this simple gesture that made him feel known.

The next few songs on the cassette weren’t really his taste, but he still listened to all of them intently, less for the musical content and more for the better understanding it gave him of Joey’s essence. He wouldn't dream of skipping a single second of this tape, it was crucial to him that he absorbed every note.

He was also seeking to pinpoint exactly what it was about Joey specifically that interested him so much. That… 

_ attracted him so much?  _

It was all still confusing to him, he didn’t even know where to start. 

Maybe it was because he’d known his brother back in the day and still felt strange about his passing, or because they liked the same music, or because Joey had left the “cult” too. Maybe it was because Joey was the only person he had spoken to outside of work and NA in the last 6 months. Maybe it was because he was so nonchalant and unbothered about what anyone else thought of him. He was confident and pleasant. Warm and inviting. 

Maybe it was because he was everything that Paul wished he  _ could  _ be.  He wished he could be that frictionless about everything. He wished he could live without fear.

He was gonna drive himself insane if he let his mind go any further down that path though, and he knew it wouldn’t do him any good to have a total meltdown now, so he put his focus back on just the music in his headphones. It felt lulling and comforting.

Paul peeked back at the tracklist, noticing that this was the end of the seventh song.

That left him with just two tracks on the short tape that only took up the A side, both by Acid Bath: Cassie Eats Cockroaches and God Machine.

Cassie Eats Cockroaches was his favorite so far, and he was blushing slightly at the fact that Joey had given him a tape including a song with such lewd lyrics. He wasn’t going to look too hard at that either. At least not right now.

God Machine was the last track. It had been the song he'd been anticipating the most, just from the title, it seemed directly up his alley.

Luckily Acid Bath’s vocals were a little more processable so Paul could actually make out the lyrics, as opposed to some of the other songs on the tape.

It started with what Paul assumed were televangelist samples and a lot of feedback and distortion, leading into a spoken word poem before the guitars kicked in.  The lyrics launched into an analogy about the murder of individualism and joy through indoctrination. 

And it hit Paul like a punch in the gut.

He clenched his jaw reflexively. It was overwhelming him the more he listened to it and let it echo in his mind. It suddenly had him tense and fisting his hand on the fabric of his baggy pants out of stress, pinching his skin slightly in the process. It felt like these were his words that he never had the  dauntlessness to say at the time because he had been trained to keep his head down and obey. Be dutiful and suffer through this pain. Deny yourself, because If you were aching from discipline, you were holy.

It  had felt like it was draining him.

He  could remember how it felt to be alive.

When he was young, _really_ young, and hadn’t started questioning yet.  God still felt bright and loving, but the older he got, the more urges and intricate details of himself started to develop and the more distant and cold god seemed to feel until he was gone altogether. 

And now he was here, and Paul couldn't remember how faith could have ever made him feel anything but guilt and fear.

Paul wanted to feel loved again, he wanted to feel understood, he wanted acceptance. Real acceptance. He wanted freedom.

Maybe that’s why he was clinging so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: allmystitchesitchao3
> 
> feedback appreciated


End file.
